


Tomorrow's Gonna Come and Change Eveythin'

by buttonsdelaguerra



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttonsdelaguerra/pseuds/buttonsdelaguerra
Summary: Jack Kelly led the newsies through the strike, but what happens when he wants to move on with his life?
Kudos: 1





	Tomorrow's Gonna Come and Change Eveythin'

March 17, 1900

As the newsies approached the circulation gates, Jack couldn’t help but stop in the middle of the street to gaze up at The World. After a winter when Jack always seemed to undersell, he’d taken Pulitzer up on the job he’d offered the previous August. Tomorrow, Jack would start his new job as a cartoon artist at The World. For the first time in nine years, Jack wouldn’t go home with the boys. He wouldn’t hand over his hard-earned cash for dinner and a bed in the lodging house. He wouldn’t call the boys and wake them up tomorrow. Jack would go home to the apartment he and Katherine were renting and they’d come to The World the next day for work, but they’d go inside, not just to the window outside. As excited as he was to start a new chapter in his life, Jack was scared as well. He’d been a newsie for nine years, and he didn’t know anything else. All of a sudden, a loud “Papes for the newsies!” jolted him back to reality. He jogged up to the circulation window where the boys had saved his spot in front.

“Heya, mornin’ Weasel,” he said as he picked up a paper. “Howzit goin’?”

“Wiesel! Or even just Mistah Weasel!” Wiesel said, already exasperated at the boys.

“Well, it don’t much matta’ now, do it? It ain’t like I’s comin’ back tomorrow,” Jack said as he read the headlines. Finally he passed the paper to Race and said, “Hundred papes. One last time.” 

“Well, I s’pose it’s been a pleasure doin’ business with ya, Kelly,” Wiesel said as Oscar slid Jack his papers. 

“You too, Weasel. You too.” Jack sighed as he dropped six dimes in the box in front of Morris and shoved the papers in his bag. Even though he knew he was wasting daylight, he waited outside the gates and watched the boys still waiting to buy their papes. He saw Elmer jump on Henry’s back, nearly knocking them both over, and Romeo and Buttons trying to hold Mike and Ike back from attacking each other, and JoJo and Finch spitting Spanish at each other so fast their mouths could barely keep up. In turn, each boy bought their papers and passed Jack on their way out. Jack said goodbye to every single one, but he grabbed Race and pulled him aside before he could leave.

“Hey, I’s gonna miss the mornin’ races, Jack!” Race exclaimed.

“Whateva’. You’s gonna miss me more,” Jack said. Race’s face fell a bit as he became more serious. “Not only you, though. I’s been the leader here longer than some a’ these boys’ve been around. They’s gonna miss me too, an’ they ain’t gonna have a leader. That’s why-”

“You want me to lead them?” Race interjected. “I can’t do that. I can’t even read the headlines for ‘em, an’ they don’t trust me, an’ I ain’t on good terms with Brooklyn, either!”

Jack smiled as Race worked himself up. “Those are such lies. That ain’t even improvin’ the truth. You’s just makin’ stuff up!” Jack grabbed Race and looked him right in the eye. “You don’t gotta be able to read the headlines. An’ you n’ Spot is on the best terms. An’ they do trust you. Romeo don’t come to me when he’s got bad dreams. Tommy Boy don’t come askin’ me stuff in Italian. Albert don’t much like anyone touchin’ him, not even Crutchie! But you can always steal his hat an’ ya put ‘im in a good mood.” Jack pulled Race into a side hug as they started walking towards the Brooklyn Bridge. “I ain’t gonna be that far, either. Ya got questions, or some’n, you can ask me.”

Race began to relax a bit with every step, but he was still tense. He’d known this day was coming for months now, and he had guessed Jack would ask him to take over. He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “Are ya sure ya want me, though? Why don’tcha ask Specs, or Mush, or Henry, or Tommy Boy? They’re all older than me.”

“Yeah, an’ they’s lookin’ ta head out sometime soon. Specs found a job working for the railroads, so he’s gonna head West pretty soon. Mush is gonna find work in Harlem by next winter. Henry’s been saving to open up his own deli since he was eleven, an’ Jacobi’s offered him a job an’ a place to stay until he can open up his own. Tommy Boy’s older, sure, but he ain’t been around as long an’ the boys don’t trust him the way they trust you.” Jack tried to be the strong, fearless leader he was for the boys, but he couldn’t help it as his voice broke. “Look, kid, I ain’t gonna lie and tell you that bein’ a newsie was the best thing that ever happened to me. Makin’ pennies a day, workin’ in awful cold ‘n hot,” he said. “But I gotta fam’ly here. You boys is my brothas. You gotta be there for ‘em, Race, ‘cause I can’t be there anymore.”

Race looked at the sadness in Jack’s eyes. He thought about how Jack had been the first one to welcome him to the newsies of Lower Manhattan, almost five years before. He thought about how Jack had been the clear leader when the previous leader had left. He thought about how Jack had led them through the strike last summer, and how he’d made the deal with Pulitzer. Race didn’t know how he’d live up to such high standards, but he was willing to try for Jack, and for the rest of the boys. “Ok,” he said with a sigh, not realising that they’d made it to the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Well,” said Jack, “it ain’t official.” Jack spit into his hand and held it out for Race. “Ready?”

Race stared at Jack’s waiting hand for a moment before pulling his cigar out of his mouth and spitting in his own palm. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said as he grabbed Jack’s hand and shook it. They smiled at each other before Jack pulled him into a hug. “I’ll miss ya,” he whispered to Race. They pulled out of their hug as Race said, “Well, ya ain’t gonna be far anyways. Now, go sell ya papes or get offa my terf!” He flashed one more grin at Jack before heading across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Jack chuckled to himself as he watched Race fade into the distance. “He’ll be alright. They all will.”


End file.
